


"Creio no Espírito Sant-"

by heroiccaptain



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Missions Abroad, Pre-Canon, early 2000s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:14:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28916679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heroiccaptain/pseuds/heroiccaptain
Summary: Merlin raises his voice as he addresses Arthur through his glasses. “Galahad and I shall, given the unexpected gap before Lancelot arrives to collect us, find a place to wait until tomorrow. Lancelot should be here by 7:00 hours. Yer full debriefing with Galahad can take place that same night. Until then.”
Relationships: Harry Hart | Galahad/Merlin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	"Creio no Espírito Sant-"

**Author's Note:**

> For the sake of context, me and @ merlit (from tumblr) were having an endless conversation about merlahad and came across the idea of them going on a mission to Brazil. As a Brazilian myself, the idea seemed hilarious and only developed from there. Because I’m the only one of us with an Ao3 account, we agreed to post the fic here, on the condition that @ merlit gets both a proper shoutout, and all the credit for writing this. While the concept came from both of us, I’m just the messenger. 
> 
> I’m glad to be part of sharing this story with you. We hope you enjoy it.

Harry Hart slinks out of the building inside of which he just slit the throat of the human trafficker Arthur had had his eye on for months. He’s greeted not only by a gruff “Out ye get, Galahad,” but also by the actual sight of his handler, who is, for once, physically present rather than simply visible through his glasses. They’re in Ipojuca, Brazil, Harry sweating in his full bespoke suit and Merlin more comfortable in the casual cotton clothes that they’d deemed a less conspicuous option for someone looking not to aid the assassination from the sidelines instead of joining in the fray. Merlin looks tired, Harry thinks, but not without some of the tension grown into those broad shoulders from the years already spent at the job releasing at once as he picks up his briefcase and beckons Harry closer. 

“Commendable, Galahad. Ye’ve left us with far more time than any of us ever bargained for.” 

Merlin raises his voice as he addresses Arthur through his glasses. “Galahad and I shall, given the unexpected gap before Lancelot arrives to collect us, find a place to wait until tomorrow. Lancelot should be here by 7:00 hours. Yer full debriefing with Galahad can take place that same night. Until then.” 

“You could have at the very least allowed me to slip in a word, given everything went more than exactly to plan this time,” Harry remarks, falling into step with Merlin as soon as he’s sure Arthur is no longer listening in. “And where exactly are we going?”

“It’s all recorded anyway, ye pompous prick. And we’re going back to the village we passed on the way here, it’s the only place we have a chance of finding somewhere to sleep.” Merlin’s voice is impassive, but the way his arm twitches against Harry’s as they walk is familiar. They’ve been together for several years, making sure never to broadcast the fact but also quite aware Kingsman is in little position to inquire on the matter. Harry was aware of the extent of Merlin’s combined trust in and fear for him in the field even when their relationship was limited to that of handler and agent. 

“I’m sure we’ll find what we need.” 

Merlin struggles to keep up as Harry’s steps along the dirt road skirt the line of bounds. “Ye’re in high spirits.” 

“The operation we had to spend weeks planning is finally over, with the added bonus of an unexpected night at a hotel with you? Forgive my cheer.”

“This “added bonus” is going to need some actual rest. Oh, this will do.”

The inn is tiny but picturesque, brick walls framing both the main building and a shed next to a small enclosure of cows in the neighbouring field. The receptionist, a woman in her fifties who must feel as stifled with her thick curtains of hair and full-length skirt as Harry does in his suit, seems delighted to have them, albeit extremely confused at who they are and where they’ve come from. Once they reach their room, Harry lies down on the nearest bed and removes his jacket, tie and glasses while Merlin unpacks the few non-Kingsman-related belongings he’s carrying.

“Nothing stopped you from getting a double bed,  _ darling _ , religious establishment or not.”

Merlin sits down next to Harry and starts to gently massage his shoulders, smiling when Harry arches into the touch. “Sorry. Old habits die hard. At least ye won’t be able to complain about me hogging the covers.”

Harry’s lips ghost over Merlin’s jaw. “Did you see the Virgin Mary on the nightstand?”

Merlin snorts out a laugh. “Aye, I’m sure she’s lamenting yer sins as we speak.”

Harry sits up for a quick kiss on the mouth. “I like to think we’re equally responsible in that regard, with or without Arthur’s command. Also, I’m starving.”

“Me too. And I’m so glad ye’re safe. Again.”

“It’s always thanks to you, my dear.”

***

“Antes da gente comer, vamos agradecer a Ele que trouxe comida pra nossa mesa”, the owner pipes up as they’re just about to start eating.

Harry, confused, turns right to glance at Merlin. Unlike his handler, he lacks an automatic translator device and is quickly realising that his Portuguese is a touch more rusty than he’d led himself to believe when they checked in. It takes a look around the communal table for him to notice the other guests closing their eyes and fixing their eyes on their own laps. But of course.

Merlin’s eyes flash with understanding as they briefly meet Harry’s before turning away. Harry reaches for Merlin’s hand and grips it loosely.

It’s uncomfortably silent in the room when Harry looks down as well, a silence broken by the owner taking a deep breath and, in unison with all of the other guests, reciting her first words of prayer.

“Creio em Deus Pai Todo-Poderoso, criador do céu e da terra. E em Jesus Cristo, seu único Filho Nosso Senhor...”

Harry slips his hand out of Merlin’s grip and slowly but surely reaches down further. 

“Que foi concebido pelo poder do Espírito Santo, nasceu da Virgem Maria , padeceu sob Pôncio Pilatos…”

His hand reaches Merlin’s thigh, a smooth, teasing, familiar grope that Merlin gives no indication of even noticing. Harry refrains from grinning, not that it would matter, given everyone’s eyes are closed.

“Foi crucificado, morto e sepultado, desceu à mansão dos mortos, ressuscitou ao terceiro dia, subiu aos Céus…”

Merlin remains stock still, Harry’s palm resting on his thigh. Harry almost gives in to opening his eyes to see whether or not he’s failing to remain expressionless.

“Está sentado à direita de Deus Pai todo-poderoso…”. 

Harry’s picked up the rhythm of the prayer by now, as has his hand, with which he starts to rub at the inside of Merlin’s thigh, feeling the muscle tighten beneath his fingers. It’s then that he hears the rustle of Merlin’s hand slipping off the bench between them and feels it grabbing Harry’s own thigh, just on the right side of rough.

“Donde há de vir a julgar os vivos e mortos. Creio no Espírito Sant-”

“Oh”. At least nobody seems to react to the sound escaping Harry.

“Na Santa Igreja Católica…”

Harry caresses the side of Merlin’s pelvis, then presses even harder on his thigh, which feels tenser than ever.

“Na comunhão dos santos, na remissão dos pecados, na ressurreição da carne, na vida eterna.”

Merlin’s large palm is plastered to Harry’s leg, crawling up almost to his groin, smooth but almost bruisingly strong.

“Amém.”

“Amen”, Harry echoes in unison, and hears Merlin do the same, a hint of laughter in his voice that Harry delights in knowing nobody else would recognise, just as he does in the smirking side-eyes they give each other as they discreetly shift their hands up to reach for their forks.

***

Merlin’s hands are back on Harry’s thighs as soon as the door to their room has creaked shut. Harry responds in kind, pressing his partner against the wall, fisting the fabric of his shirt in one hand and groping as much of his arse as he can reach with the other. By the time their kisses grow ever deeper and Harry lets out the slightest of moans as he grinds his hips against Merlin’s, he feels Merlin start to fidget uncomfortably. Although the continued presence of his tongue in Harry’s mouth seems to indicate no desire to stop on Merlin’s part, Harry breaks away and takes the two backward steps needed to seat him on the nearest bed.

“Hamish, if you want to wait until we’re back in London, we could just go to sleep. I know it’s a bit-”

“No, I want ye, I’ve missed ye, just… I’m not fucking you if ye wake the whole building in the process.”

Harry leers at Merlin and beckons him closer. “A gentleman speaks when it’s objectively warranted.”

Merlin shoves Harry onto his back and kisses him quiet, fingers swiftly undoing his own belt as Harry fumbles to remove both of their shirts. “Ye were amazing today,” he mutters between kisses. “Every day I spend with ye, Harry, I marvel at ye more, in or out of the field.”

Harry hides his own silly grin by pressing his face into Merlin’s shoulder. “It usually takes my mouth around your cock for you to start spouting compliments of that caliber.”

“Oh, shut up.” 

It takes little time for Harry to end up naked in Merlin’s equally unclothed lap, squirming with strained delight at the total of three fingers inside him - two of them Merlin’s - and pressing gentle yet biting kisses to Merlin’s collarbone, which is as sharply illuminated by the bedside lamp as both of their abandoned glasses on the window sill. Harry shudders as Merlin adds more lube to his free palm and briefly wraps it around both of their cocks with a hungry gleam in his eyes. It’s only when he starts staring at the bedside table for no apparent reason that Harry abandons his boyfriend’s neck and raises a questioning eyebrow.

“I’m nae sure if I can deal with this, it’s like her eyes do nae leave me wherever I am.” Merlin’s voice breaks into laughter as he gestures towards the Virgin Mary on the table with a glistening hand, and Harry can’t help but chuckle in return. He carefully disengages himself from Merlin’s lap, flopping onto the little space left over on the bed, and moves to his hands and knees, locking eyes with Merlin and arching his own spine, arse as high in the air as he can manage. Now it’s Merlin’s turn to raise his eyebrows.

“For heaven’s sake Harry, ye’re not some desperate whore.” 

Harry flails an arm vaguely in the direction of the gaudy figurine whose eyes really do seem to follow their every move, noting with a hint of pompous satisfaction the way Merlin’s cock jerks and his eyes remain glued to Harry’s backside despite the condescending tone. “Just doing my best to give her the show she deserves.” 

Merlin rolls his eyes and gives Harry’s arse a playful yet appreciative slap. “Let’s spare the sheets of our kindly hosts, at the very least. Do ye have any condoms?”

“Suit jacket, the inside pocket.”

“Insatiable.”

“Like you’ve never jumped on me right after missions.” Merlin laughs sheepishly at that, and Harry quivers with anticipation - it’s been a good while since he’s done this - by the time Merlin, having retrieved Harry’s jacket, settles on his knees and, permission wordlessly granted by the Harry’s huffs of impatience, rolls the condom on and sighs as he sinks into the yielding heat of his partner’s body. 

“Feels good, so full,” Harry pants as he feels Merlin’s hands curling around his hips, pulling him back to meet his steady thrusts. Their breaths mingle in the air, which is barely cooler than it was in the height of the day, Merlin’s breathing loud and harsh, Harry’s melting into moans when Merlin finds a better angle.

“ _ Yes,  _ harder, darling,  _ there _ .”

“Shush, remember there’s... oh, fuck, ye’re tight, love…” The bedsprings give an ominous creak as Harry moves to grip the headboard in preemptive anticipation of when Merlin speeds up until he’s practically ploughing into Harry, nails digging into his sides. However, the sound of that is soon drowned out by Harry, his gasping, barely sensical tirade about wanting more, to be filled, to be  _ used _ only spurring Merlin on, which causes the bedframe to clatter like an overflowing kitchen cupboard and sweat to bead all over Harry’s back. Harry can tell Merlin’s orgasm hits him sooner than he expected from his partner’s failure to anticipate the loud groan that trips out of his mouth, one he’d usually stifle against Harry’s shoulder or the back of his own hand out of entrenched, formerly repressed habit. Finally halting his thrusts, Merlin reaches an trembling arm around to where Harry’s hand is desperately pumping at his own cock, rubbing the head and helpfully covering it with his palm once Harry spills, a shaky litany of cries escaping the lips Harry tilts in vain to reach back with for a kiss.

Merlin’s forehead glistens with sweat as he slowly pulls out, slumps onto his back beside Harry, ties off the condom and tosses it into the tiny bin between the two beds. 

“All right there, love?”

Harry shuffles onto his side for a slow, deep kiss, because that’s all he can think of to express the extent of the warmth nestled in his chest at the fact that Merlin is here for him, again, and in every possible way. “Yes. Thank you for... everything today. I love you.” 

Merlin traces Harry’s lips and jaw with his thumb. “I love ye too. I dread potentially facing our dining companions tomorrow, though.”

“That didn’t seem to cross your mind when you were busy rearranging my digestive system.”

Merlin scoffs and stands up. “You prissy, handsome fool. I’ll get us something to clean up with so we can finally go to sleep.”

Harry is already drifting off by the time Merlin returns from the bathroom a minute later, still naked, hands washed, his expression a confusing enough mixture of amusement and despair to perk Harry up. “What’s wrong?”

“Ye’ll have to come into the bathroom and see.” 

Harry complies and finds his partner pointing at the neat pile of white towels folded next to the shower screen, the topmost of which is emblazoned with, in cheerful blue letters decorated with a stitched-on yellow cross, the words “Purifica-me, senhor - Lavai-me”. 

“Well”, Harry starts, “At least there’s a sense of consiten-” he plucks the towel off the pile and Merlin snatches it out of his hand. 

“Ye are nae touching yer sweat-and-come-drenched self with what is trying its very best to be a sacred towel. Let’s just have a shower.”

“ _ Drenched? _ ”

Merlin shrugs and steps into the shower. “Oh, get in.”

One acceptably lukewarm shower for them both and fifteen minutes of pre-sleep haircare for Harry (observed by an ever-judgemental Merlin) later, they retire to their separate beds and Merlin stretches to switch off the light. Harry reaches a hand out from under the covers to brush against Merlin’s. He feels Merlin squeeze it gently in the dark - it’s that sort of moment which neither is likely to remember in the morning but that doesn’t matter any less for it.

“Let’s be gone by dawn, eh? I really do nae want to face any more questions about who we are to the point of ye being forced to induce amnesia.”

“Agreed. We’ve done badly enough as it is, I’m sure the gossip about “last night’s suspiciously attired gay  _ gringos _ ” will make rounds in any case.”

“Ye overestimate the extent to which people around ye actually pay attention to ye.”

“You’re the wrong person to say that.”

“Aye, that’s probably true.”

“You know, all this…” Harry glances at the shadow of the Virgin Mary, not that Merlin would be able to see him do so. “...it’s actually almost quaint compared to some of the antics of my dear old relatives. They’d tell me when I was a boy that unless I kept my eyes shut while praying, I’d not be able to handle what entered the room in the middle of it.”

“Ye couldn’t resist opening them, though, could ye?”

“It took years. But when I did and there was nothing in the room, no angels, no God, nothing, it was the first step to realising I want to be something different.”

“Well, ye certainly lived up to that.”

“Oh, I do like to think so.”

“Of course ye do.” 

“Goodnight.”

“Night, love.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you’re not Colin Firth in Love Actually, here are some Portuguese translations:  
> “Antes da gente comer, vamos agradecer a Ele que trouxe comida pra nossa mesa” = “Before we eat, let’s be thankful to Him who brought food to our table”  
> The towel in the bathroom says: “Purify me, Lord. Wash me”
> 
> Comments and kudos are always welcome!


End file.
